The Burn Talon Army Airfield buzzed with the sounds of pre-mission checks and last-minute equipment adjustments. Inside the small company headquarters briefing room, 2nd Lt. Grant Cramdell paced, running over the details of their assignment, while Sergeant First Class Rudeus Draken leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, watching his young lieutenant with a seasoned calm.
“You’ll wear out the floor before we’re even in the air, Lieutenant,” Rudeus said, a hint of amusement in his voice. “First air assault with tiltrotors isn’t something to overthink. Stick to your training, and your men will follow.”
Grant stopped and sighed, nerves evident despite his determination. “It’s not the assault, Sarge. It’s going back to Sacra-Hill. Knowing what those people are facing while we’re still here prepping…” He trailed off, shaking his head.
Rudeus’s gaze turned hard, though his voice stayed calm. “It’s rough. But we’re going back for them—don’t lose sight of that.”
The door opened, and they turned as a tall, dark-uniformed Beastkin entered. His presence was commanding, his movements precise, and the Seraphim insignia on his shoulder marked him as one of the elite. He met their gazes with an assessing look before nodding.
“Lieutenant Cramdell, Sergeant Draken. Sergeant Dagger, 3rd ODA,” he said, introducing himself with a firm handshake. “I’m leading a strike team that’ll deploy with your unit on the assault. Once we’re on the ground, we’ll break off to handle a secondary objective.”
Grant’s brows furrowed. “A secondary objective?”
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Dagger stepped forward, tapping the mission schematic on the monitor to zoom in on the north district of Sacra-Hill. “We’ve confirmed intel on a warehouse holding Slaver collars—possibly even Chaos Collars. Our team’s task is to clear and destroy that target.”
Grant and Rudeus went still at the mention of Chaos Collars. Rudeus’s eyes narrowed as he looked up at Dagger. “You’re telling me the Austorians have a stash of those things just sitting in Sacra-Hill?”
Dagger nodded grimly. “That’s right. Once we hit the ground, my team will break off, neutralize any threats around the warehouse, and set charges. Afterward, we’ll rendezvous with the demolition team at the bridge to help ensure it goes down.”
Grant’s initial shock was replaced by fierce resolve. “So, once you break off, we’ll do our job with the evacuation and cover your fallback from the bridge if you need it.”
“Exactly,” Dagger confirmed, his expression steely. “If the bridge team needs backup to ensure the demolition goes smoothly, that’s where you’ll come in. We can’t risk leaving that bridge intact for the Austorians to use against us.”
Rudeus exchanged a brief glance with Grant, then nodded at Dagger. “Understood. But if the enemy is dug in around the bridge, we may need heavier support to get the demo team out.”
“I’ll be coordinating directly with the demo team,” Dagger replied. “If things get complicated, we’ll radio for support.”
The urgency of the mission was clear, and as Dagger prepared to leave, he looked between the two of them. “Remember, this assault on Sacra-Hill is bigger than any of us. Stick to the objective, get the civilians out, and bring your men back safely.”
Grant straightened, his jaw set with determination. “We’re ready. Sacra-Hill deserves nothing less.”
Dagger nodded approvingly, then turned to leave, pausing briefly at the door. “Brief your men well. We lift off in one hour.”
As Dagger’s footsteps faded, Grant exhaled, his nerves tempered with a newfound purpose. He looked to Rudeus, his voice steady. “We’ll get it done, Sarge. For Sacra-Hill.”
Rudeus gave him a firm nod, a proud glint in his eyes. “For Sacra-Hill—and everyone waiting on our return.”